


Bottom Bunk

by objectlesson



Category: Fantastic Mr. Fox
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fox love, M/M, awkward kids with crushes, cute adolescent foxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectlesson/pseuds/objectlesson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kristofferson's first night in the bottom bunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottom Bunk

**Author's Note:**

> Hm, this is strange. I think the only reason people don't right ample fan fiction about these two little guys is that they're foxes. Who are roughly twelve years old. Oh well, I think they're mad cute together. Animals have never stopped me before! I don't own them.

Kristofferson’s bed had been upgraded to the bottom bunk. Ash hadn’t said anything about it, just moved the pokey jumble of old car toys out from the mattress, and replaced it with Kristofferson’s bed roll and pillow. Kristofferson would have asked about it, but he didn’t trust Ash to not revoke the privilege if he did. Anyway, Ash didn’t like having anything he did questioned, and neither did Kristofferson, so he respected it, even if Ash touched his stuff with out asking. He just crawled in the new bed after he brushed his teeth, tugged the sheets up to his chin. 

The lights were out, the agitated creaking of Ash rolling over repeatedly every fifteen to twenty seconds above him the only sounds filling their shared room. Kristofferson had gotten used to hearing his cousin huff and yip before he went to bed, so he was already half asleep, eyes heavy and paws cozy now that they actually fit in the area he was supposed to be sleeping in. 

He was almost totally out when Ash broke the silence. “Hey. Kristofferson.” 

“...Yeah?” He answered, sleepy and half-suspecting he was in a dream. 

“Is that better? For your spine?” Ash asked. 

“What? Oh, the bed. Yes. It’s much better, thank you,” He said politely, thinking that he shouldn’t have to thank Ash for being moved up off the floor, but not really minding that he did. His ears twitched, already sleeping although the rest of him had been woken up. 

Ash was rustling around, springs wheezing in protest until Kristofferson heard his weight lift off the bed, and descend down the ladder from top to bottom bunk. Then, suddenly, there was a pair of green eyes glowing in the dark in front of him, like two moons. 

He was quite awake now, ears and all. He sat upright, wondering if there was something else he was supposed to have said about the bed. Ash hovered in front of him, smelling like fox and toothpaste. “Can I ask you a personal question?” He finally asked, cocking his head. 

Kristofferson was unnerved, but he heard himself answer, “Yes. I think so.” 

Ash had brought his flashlight, which he flicked on, illuminating them both in the bottom bunk. The light startled Kristofferson, who raised his paw to block it out. “Sorry,” Ash said, waiting for Kristofferson to adjust and his paw to drop. When it did, he scooted closer, eyes darting to the red sheets with the fire engines on them he’d dug up to make Kristofferson’s new bed warmer “I meant to ask you. Have you kissed your girlfriend yet?” 

Blue eyes widened, and cheeks got hot. Kristofferson was embarrassed. “ _No_. We’re only twelve fox years old. I hardly know her. That’s the point of going steady, to get to know someone well enough that you can kiss them. When you’re ready.” 

Kristofferson did not expect Ash to look disappointed, but that was the only way he could have described the expression on his cousin’s face. Ash sat there, staring thoughtfully at the sheets and shivering because he was outside of the covers, and wearing only his underwear. “Oh,” he said after awhile. “Interesting.” 

“Are you cold? If you want to talk you don’t have to do it at the foot of the bed. You can come under here,” Kristofferson offered, scooting over so there was space for Ash to sidle in beside him. Ash did, eagerly. 

“Would you say you know me pretty well? That we know each other?” Ash asked after awhile, paws tight around the flashlight, which was between their bodies and under the covers with them. 

Kristofferson thought for awhile. He was the kind of fox who liked to answer things honestly, and honestly often required thought, so that was what he did. Ash seemed inpatient, and gently kicked his shin to hurry his response up. Kristofferson ignored him, also the kind of fox who was not easily swayed by petty taunts. 

He thought about Ash, and the peculiar week he had spent in his home, getting to know him. He knew that Ash was not good at sports, but wanted to be. He know Ash was also good at acknowledging the many strengths he did have, and that Kristofferson was much better at pointing them out than himself. For example, Ash was a very good cook, had a knack for chemistry, could sew clothes himself that were store-quality, and had an impressive vocabulary. Ash denied all these things. Kristofferson decided that he did, indeed, know Ash very well. Possibly better than Ash knew himself. 

“I think I know you better than anyone else does,” Kristofferson said slowly, eyes falling on Ash. “I’m not sure you know me as well as I know you, though. I’m not sure you’ve given me a chance.” 

Ash made a face he often made, which involved his dark, messy brows gathering inward and his teeth bared. It used to scare Kristofferson, before he knew whether or not Ash was a fighter, before he learned Ash was angry, but not violent. 

“That’s not true,” Ash told him. “I know you plenty well. I know your dad is dying, and you’re sad about it. I know at your school, you’re made fun of as much as I’m made fun of at mine. I know you’re a naturally athletic fox, but that doesn’t mean you’re an athlete, because identifying as something is different that being able to do it. I know you cry at night. I know you like roast potatoes, and can meditate, and only have a girlfriend because you’ve never had one before, not because you genuinely like her.” 

Kristofferson blinked, tears in his eyes like they were determined to prove Ash’s point. He wasn’t sure why his throat was burning. Ash wasn’t being mean; Ash was grumpy and mad all the time but he wasn’t mean. He was just bad at talking. Maybe Kristofferson was teary because Ash was right about things he hadn’t even admitted to himself, and that meant someone knew him, but it also meant he was sad, and lonely, and only had a girlfriend because he had never had one before. 

Ash turned off the flashlight, and they were cloaked in darkness again. Kristofferson sniffled. 

“So you’d say we know each other pretty well?” Ash asked again, his voice startling in the shadows. 

Kristofferson swallowed noisily, wondering how in exposing his loneliness, Ash had made him feel less lonely. It was a paradox. Kristofferson usually liked collecting paradoxes, it was something he and his dad did when they read the paper together, but he didn’t feel like collecting this one. “Yeah. Yeah I guess so,” he mumbled, wiping his muzzle on the back of his paw. 

“Good,” Ash said, and then he leaned forward, and kissed Kristofferson on the nose. 

It felt like a spec of warm in a cold room. He sniffled again. “Thank you.” 

“Can I do it again?” Ash whispered. It sounded like a new thing, because Ash didn’t whisper much. It felt fragile, and precious, and worth protecting. 

“Yes,” Kristofferson said. Ash went for his lips this time, his paw on the side of Kristofferson’s face, where his fur was matted and wet. It was short, but still very warm. Then there was another, and another. Each time it got a little longer, and each time, Kristofferson was surprised by it. He closed his eyes, and let himself feel glad that he wasn’t sleeping on the floor under the train table anymore.


End file.
